♪ ♪
(lighter clicking)
Yo, you need help lighting that?
All right. Where's your damn wallet?
(grunts)
Come on, man! Get it out!
I'm getting it.
I'll cut you, man. I swear.
Take it easy. I'm getting it.
Man: All units move in, move in, move in!
(grunting)
Jamie: I'm a cop!
Get off me! I'm a cop! I'm a cop! Don't fight me, man!
Don't fight me!
(g*nshots)
Jamie!
(man screaming)
Stay right there!
Hands up!
Jamie, are you okay?
Yeah, I think so.
What'd you do that for? I dropped the Kn*fe!
Doesn't matter. You grabbed for my g*n. You're under arrest.
No, I didn't!
You have the right to remain silent.
I know. My dad's a cop.
(groans)
(panting)
(birds chirping)
Woman: Michael, you up? Breakfast is done!
You know I don't eat breakfast.
Uh, you should the day of tryouts for a big math competition.
You ready?
Yep.
Do you have your calculator?
I told you, we're not allowed to bring calculators.
Baby, can you help me with this bow tie?
That's what you're wearing to the opening of a youth facility?
I'm not wearing it for the youth.
I'm wearing it for the cameras.
It's corny.
Say what?
It makes you look like you work in a restaurant.
Oh, so now you're a fashion critic?
Just saying.
Now you're gonna get it.
Come on, slugger. Come on.
Huh? (grunts)
(laughs)
Good luck today, son.
And be careful out there, hmm?
Dad, I'm going to a math contest.
I'm saying, if you run into the police...
Be polite but know your rights.
All right.
Get out of here.
Rumble, young man. Rumble.
(laughs)
Woman: Mommy, please, where are you?
Will you shut up?!
(mumbling): Mommy. Mommy.
Well, here we go again.
Oh, my God. At least she's not singing “99 Bottles of Beer” anymore.
Mommy, please don't let them hit me again.
Mommy, don't let them hit me again.
Yo, Rent-a-cop, we may... we might need to pull over again.
Please, Mommy. Mommy, it hurts. It hurts. Please, Mommy, it hurts. Please. Please, Mommy, don't let them hit me again.
Hey, guys. For real now.
Mommy, please!
Yo, seriously! She's not faking now!
Hey, you want to go back there and tell 'em to shut up again?
No. You shut 'em up.
Buckle up. (clears throat)
Guys, don't do this!
(indistinct protesting)
(tires screeching)
(shouting)
(groans)
This lady's out! Stop!
Stop the van, man! Stop!
(tires screeching)
(prisoners panting, tires screech)
Yo, how did everybody do on the game theory question?
Beasted on it.
Well, what do you expect?
His mom's a teacher, and his dad's a sponsor.
Nobody gave me the answers.
Whatever.
Hey, who's up for chilling at my mom's with some Call to w*r 2 on the Xbox?
So lame. 3's about to come out.
Hey, guys, I'll catch up to you later!
What's up?
Just got to take care of something!
All right. Later, G.
Really, Anthony? You're pulling me out of a meeting?
Come down to the scene of a traffic accident?
You need to see what happened here.
Looks like more of a job for Highway Patrol.
Yeah, well, this is the private prison van that was supposed to be bringing up the witness for our big fraud trial.
You mean the one that was in custody in Florida, Kenny Becker?
Yeah, Kenny was in the van when it got T-boned going through the intersection.
It was carrying a bunch of other prisoners getting picked up and dropped off all along the Eastern Seaboard.
So where's Kenny?
We're sorting through all the IDs, trying to figure it out.
Got at least four injured, one escaped.
And throw in one D.O.A.
So our witness is in the wind and we have no way of tracking him?
That's how it goes when you travel economy.
Why am I not getting any information?!
I have a right to know! I have a right!
You show me! Tell me who is in charge here!
Is that Potter?
That's him.
The hell is he doing?
Take it easy.
Take it easy?
What is going on here?!
Our job's not hard enough without this guy screwing up our crime scene and making our life more difficult?
The victim's his son, Michael Potter. 15 years old.
Three sh*ts at close range.
That is my son!
Oh, my God.
Somebody, you tell me, you tell me!
What do we know?
No witnesses to the att*ck.
Looks like he was taking a shortcut through this lot to get home.
The boy was an honor student at Crispus Attucks High School.
Supposed to be on his way home from a math contest.
Was it a robbery? What?
His cell phone was still in his backpack.
Cash was still in his wallet.
Maybe he resisted?
But three sh*ts is a lot for a robbery.
Potter: Talk to me!
(woman wailing)
(shushing)
Is it true?
Is it true? Is it true?
(shushing)
No, is it true?
No!
(shushing)
Let go of me.
Let go of me. No.
Baby, calm down!
No, I need to see him! No!
(shushing)
My son!
I have to see my son! No!
Potter: That's my boy, Reagan!
That's my boy in that dirt right there!
Reagan, you better do this right! That's my son!
♪ ♪
<font color="#00FF00">♪ Blue Bloods 7x10 ♪</font>
<font color="#00FFFF">Unbearable Loss</font>
Original Air Date on December 9, 2016
♪ ♪
(footsteps approaching)
Reverend.
Commissioner.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
I'm still waiting for it to sink in.
I'm not sure what I'll do when it does.
You'll try to deal, help the others to deal.
Not sure I have it in me.
Did you?
When you lost your son?
Off and on.
Michael was our only child.
We always kept him off the streets. But maybe we tried too hard and-and left him unprepared...
You can't... you can't blame yourself.
Yeah.
So you still don't have anything?
Not yet. But we will soon.
You're certain of that?
I have faith.
I ask you to.
I know we've had our differences.
With good reason.
We both want exactly the same thing right now.
If there's anything my office can do to help you or your family...
Just find the son of a bitch that k*lled my boy.
Lois.
I'm so sorry.
Any sign of Kenny?
Not yet.
We ID'd all the other prisoners.
He must have escaped from the wreck.
You want to go with me when I have to tell the judge?
Erin, there's something else.
Worse than losing your key witness right before a trial?
The female prisoner dead at the scene?
Her injuries aren't consistent with being caused by the accident.
What, like she was beaten?
I thought all the prisoners were handcuffed.
Something's off here, I'm telling you.
That's Rick Wolf, Sr.
It's his private transport company.
His son was in the front of the van.
Senior flew up from business meetings in D.C. to deal with this.
Look, not our problem.
We just need to find Kenny Becker.
This must be Ms. Reagan from the D.A.'s office.
And I thought all the good-looking prosecutors were down south.
Lucky them.
Touché.
I'm concerned with finding our missing witness.
Yeah, that Kenny, he's a greased pig, all right.
Just waltzed away from the scene with his hands cuffed.
But it's New York.
I guess you people are used to seeing things like that.
I'm gonna need to interview the other prisoners you were transporting.
How would that be helpful?
Well, they were all together. Our witness may have dropped a clue as to where he was headed.
I have a contract to drop these prisoners in five different jurisdictions in the next 24 hours.
Well, we wouldn't take that long.
If you call up the local prosecutors once we've dropped 'em off, I'm sure they could hook you up.
Thank you for your help.
Happy to oblige.
Uh, next time I'm in town, what say we grab a cocktail?
(grunting)
I've been looking everywhere for you.
Oh, good.
You're gonna be cleared, you know.
Says who?
He pulled a Kn*fe, he grabbed for your g*n.
You had every reason to fear for your life. End of story.
Actually, I thought he grabbed for my g*n.
The way my shirt ripped, it might have just got caught.
So maybe, not the end of the story.
Well, it was his choice to try to rob someone.
And his bad luck it just happened to be a cop.
Yeah, and my bad luck that... his father happened to be a captain with the state police and ex-NYPD.
Hey.
What's eating you is the kid's father's a cop, just like yours.
He was headed to an Ivy League school, just like you did.
So why's that kid on the wrong end of your g*n?
What's eating me...
...is I'm not harder to find when I'm trying to be hard to find.
Yeah, what time was that that it happened, huh?
(knocking on door)
Yeah?
You need to be part of this conversation.
(sighs)
You sit tight.
(phone ringing, door slams)
Detective.
Reverend.
You know Ed Shabazz from my security team.
Of course.
He used to be with your department.
Mm-hmm.
We've brought a suspect in for you.
You did what?
We found this individual selling video games on a blanket outside the organization's community center.
We traced the serial numbers.
Same video games my son had just bought with our credit card.
That's great detective work, but tell me something.
Why does this man look like he was beaten?
He fell on the way here.
He fell on what, your fist?
What's your name, sir?
I go by Sh-Shoo Fly.
These men, did they tune you up?
I'm not saying nothing.
Except that I found those games in the trash.
You didn't find a g*n in there, too, did you?
No. Just the games.
It's unbelievable.
You people complain about police brutality, and then you go and do this?
You watch who you call “you people.”
Oh, pardon me, you.
You want us to do everything by the book-- this ain't in our book.
This isn't even part of your good book, Reverend.
We just brought you a suspect.
If you are serious about solving this case, you'd at least question him.
I can't talk to him because he got tuned up.
That means everything he says is tainted now.
Look. I get what you're trying to do here, okay?
And I understand how you feel.
Really? Are you making arrangements to bury one of your own children?
I'm gonna talk to the reverend for a second, okay?
Come on.
The lab results came back.
They found a little bit of marijuana in your son's system.
We're trying to find out who the hell sold it to him.
My son was a straight-A student.
Never touched a drug in his life.
Look. I have a boy your son's age. They grow up fast.
Maybe you just didn't know him as well as you thought you did.
Are you seriously trying to paint him as a drug abuser?
Absolutely not.
I never said that.
When your father gave me his assurances, I thought I could work with you people.
Watch who you call “you people.”
You! Detective Reagan.
And I'm gonna demand that you be taken off of this case.
You don't get to choose who catches what case, Reverend.
There's too much bad faith here.
I am going to call the governor, and have him appoint a special prosecutor to take this case over.
You're making a mistake.
I don't have a right to express my opinion?
Of course you have a right to express your opinion, but it's better if we work together.
We're out of here.
If they can't give us justice here, we're gonna go find it somewhere else.
I know that. People hear “special prosecutor,” what they really hear is cops screwed it up.
But look at the source.
I am.
Potter's called for a special prosecutor on parking tickets.
I know his playbook.
Then we got...
Come on, Sid, we know what you're gonna say.
What am I gonna say?
“Boss. We can't let our critics dictate terms to us.”
Well, I'd be right.
Garrett, this isn't just an image problem for us.
There is a practical problem as well.
That's right.
The investigation is stalling out because the community has stopped cooperating.
They're buying into when Potter says we can't be trusted.
Which is why we have to get him back on our side publicly.
And immediately. The longer we let this case go on, the more it's gonna cost us in the long run.
So, what, we bow down to Potter just because he's on the megaphone once again?
But in this case, he is using it as a man who lost his only son.
That is different in the worst way.
I don't think he should get a hall pass just because he lost his son.
So do we placate him by turning the case over to a special prosecutor?
We're not turning it over to anyone.
(sighs)
Man: You're Janko?
Yeah. Can I help you?
I understand you're Officer Reagan's partner.
I'd like a word with you about the sh**ting by the park.
You one of the investigators?
It was my son who got sh*t.
Uh, I really don't think I should be talking to you.
Is there something I need to hear about what happened?
You're a state police captain, and you know the drill.
They got him on the ward at Bellevue with a b*llet in his abdomen.
You know, I hope he pulls through.
He will.
But I'd like a word with Reagan.
You know, he's just gonna tell you exactly the same thing I just told you.
You just let him know I'm looking for him.
Here's my card.
My investigators told me that you have information on a m*rder.
Saw it with my own eyes.
I'm listening.
They picked up a bunch of us for transport, threw us in the back of a filthy van like we were animals, and starved us for 1,200 miles.
They wouldn't let us use the bathroom.
They wouldn't give this Katy her meds.
And when we complained, they took us for a rough ride.
It's not necessarily a m*rder case.
Then what about this?
When Katy started acting out again, they stopped the van, took the cuffs off...
They encouraged the other prisoners to b*at on her.
You know as well as I do that that woman didn't die from being in a traffic accident.
And you're willing to testify to that?
So long as you get Florida to drop their charges against me.
That's a heavy lift.
Everyone down south knows about Big Rick Wolf and his m*rder vans.
This isn't the first time they've had someone die in custody.
And they've gotten away with it.
Because everyone's making money or they're too scared to talk.
But I've got nothing to lose.
Except prison time.
Seriously, Darnell?
You invited the governor to sit with us at the funeral?
Listen to me, I'm trying to get him to appoint a special prosecutor.
Darnell, this is the service for our son.
Yes, it is.
I'm trying to get these people to recognize his humanity and-and our loss and take a stand.
A funeral is a time for us to come together and grieve, Darnell.
Michael's death has to mean something.
It means something!
It means everything!
We don't need a special prosecutor to tell us what it means!
You think that that boy doesn't mean the world to me?
You think that my heart is not broken like yours?
Because if you don't know that, Lois, you don't know me at all.
(sniffles)
Shabazz: Excuse me, Reverend.
You've got company.
Not now. Please.
I should tell Reagan to wait or come back later?
(sighs)
I realize this isn't a good time.
There are no more good times anymore. Say your piece.
We need to turn the heat down on the rhetoric and recognize we have a common goal.
Just different ways of achieving that goal.
My officers do not discriminate among victims.
I don't know what's more amazing-- your gall in showing up here or the fact that you can say that with a straight face.
But I do have the gall and the straight face.
I also have the manpower and the expertise to catch your son's k*ller.
You do not have either.
And the sooner you accept that...
The sooner I play the fool.
We cannot do our job if you and your people are acting like vigilantes.
So you're putting all this on my shoulders?
400 years of institutional racism and it is my fault...
Please.
...that the police can't be trusted?
None of this is helping to get Michael's k*ller.
Your son even tried to imply that my child was responsible for the circumstances of his own death.
That is not what he was saying.
I didn't see anybody spreading rumors when your family was in pain.
There really is no talking to you.
Even now.
Then get off my damn porch.
That's what I like to see.
A dedicated public servant working, burning the candle at both ends.
“It will not last the night;
“But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--
It gives a lovely light.”
Your office just served my company with a subpoena, Ms. Reagan. Mind telling me what that's about?
Well, you shouldn't be too surprised.
A prisoner d*ed in your custody within the confines of New York County.
That poor woman was not in the best of health.
Her records will show that.
Records show she shouldn't have been in the van in the first place.
That warrant was vacated months ago.
That lady was no angel, believe me.
You see her arms?
Rick, let's not get into the weeds.
Let's just say we did what we're paid to do.
Great. Then you shouldn't have any problem opening your files and letting us review your records.
If you go up against us, all your witnesses will be low-life lawbreakers.
Choirboys rarely witness major crimes.
But look who you're bringing to the dance.
Kenny Becker?
Did you know that when we picked him up in Florida, he was already in custody there for another crime?
Yes, he was charged in connection with a home invasion.
But did you know that the old lady his partner tied up in that house just d*ed?
That makes Kenny an accessory to m*rder.
Son, what do you think the odds are that a jury will take his word over ours?
Not good.
Big Rick: Ask yourself, is it worth it?
You're gonna let a m*rder*r go free so you can persecute people who provide a valuable service to law enforcement nationwide?
Detective Reagan... is this the suspect?
Why don't you get him out of here?
I'll put him in the juvenile room and make some calls.
Mm-hmm.
We heard you picked up somebody using my son's credit card.
Maybe.
What's going on?
I'm entitled to know.
Oh, now you want it to be a two-way street?
Suddenly you want to share information?
Reagan, come on!
Hey, you take a hike.
We have information that a g*ng is targeting young kids coming out of a video game store.
Same video game store that your son was visiting.
So you're gonna question this young man you just brought in?
He's 15, which means we can't until a parent or guardian comes down here.
Hey, break it up, will you?
Get out of here.
There's nothing to see.
You always manage to find a way around it.
Why not this time?
Maybe you want me to find a way around it now because it has to do with your son. Is that it?
You're enjoying this, aren't you?
No, I'm not enjoying this in the least, believe me.
Payback, huh?
For all those times that I called you out for violating rights in my community!
You want to know the truth, Reverend?
Most people come down off their high horse when they need something.
But not you. You've stayed right up where you always are, and believe it or not, I have so much more respect for you for doing that than if you'd flip and act different.
I hope to God that you're never where I am right now.
Me, too. But right now, I'm a voice for your son, and if you want to help me find who did this to him, you got to work with us, not against us.
Oh. The 18 in selected sherry oak casks.
Are we celebrating, or should I be worried that you've gone on the pad?
That's one thing I haven't been accused of.
I thought that sh**ting team gave you a clean slate.
They did.
All good on that end.
The kid I sh*t... his father's a captain with the state police.
Ex-NYPD.
Makes it worse somehow, huh?
Also got word from my partner that he wants to see me.
Sounded pretty worked up.
Oh, you can't meet with the parent of the defendant you're gonna have to testify against.
Case is closed.
Kid took the plea.
Yeah?
Maybe he'll get off dr*gs in prison.
That's why he tried to rob you-- drug money?
Yeah, apparently, he had a full ride on a lacrosse scholarship when he got injured and then became addicted to painkillers.
Sad story.
(sighs)
(sniffs)
But it's not your sad story.
(uncorking bottle)
Which is why I want to duck the dad.
You're under no obligation.
And there could still be a civil suit.
I'm not worried about the civil suit, but...
don't I have an obligation?
As what?
As a cop... to another cop.
(clears his throat)
My first C.O. once told me that if there's a conversation you've been avoiding, then that's the one you need to have.
Not so fast.
Come to see us off, did you?
Up here, they like to make damn sure you left town.
That's called northern hospitality.
We got another subpoena for you.
Give me a break.
Son, let's not be intolerant.
These New Yorkers may not know how the rest of the country works.
Well, unfortunately for you, you are in New York, and this is the way it works.
Miss... was I not being clear enough before?
We're leaving town and taking our prisoners with us.
Oh, you were clear.
It's just not happening.
Well, it better be happening.
I have to drop these prisoners in five different jurisdictions by the end of business today, and no subpoena for records is gonna change that.
Well, we're done with subpoenas for you.
Nah, this one's for you, kid.
You were in the front of that van when the lady d*ed.
Unpack your bags.
You ain't going nowhere.
(door opens)
Baker: Reverend Potter, sir.
Just you?
Please.
What I have to say isn't part of a bigger conversation.
That'd be a first.
And maybe a last, but this is just between us.
Fine by me.
I'm reconsidering my position vis-à-vis cooperation.
In what way?
I understand your detectives released the boy who had my son's credit card on recognizance.
He will still be charged, but as you know, he is 15.
And his parents bought a good enough lawyer.
Protecting his rights... as they should.
But I also realize that the more time that goes by, the harder it's going to be to catch my son's k*ller.
48, to be exact.
What's that?
Hours.
In our job, the odds crater after that.
(sighs)
I'm asking our community to cooperate with the NYPD.
Just this once?
I have always said that there are good cops and bad cops.
But a lot less about the good ones.
You mind?!
You're still preaching to your choir. I'm not in your choir.
The cops can't do their jobs without us, and we can't keep the communities safe without them.
At last.
Oh, cut it out.
This is more complicated than you'd admit to, and you know it.
Let's just meet halfway.
Okay.
You're prepared to let my people do their job without interference?
Yes.
Then thank you.
Darnell, we will bring your boy's m*rder*r to justice.
Then thank you.
(indistinct chatter)
(glasses clinking)
You're the guy who sh*t my son.
Captain.
Forget my rank.
I'm not talking to you as a police officer.
I'm guessing you want to talk about what happened?
I know what happened.
I read the report.
Then I'm not sure what else to tell you.
I did my job. I'm sorry that your son got hurt.
You don't have any kids, do you?
No, not yet.
Want to make God laugh?
Tell him your plans.
Not sure I'm following you.
I wasn't around much when Scottie was growing up.
Then when I saw him going down a bad road with dr*gs, I tried tough love.
But all I did was drive him away.
So I came here to apologize.
Apologize to me?
My son had some of the same chances as you, and now he's going to prison.
That's not how I thought it would go.
Your son's still young.
Prison doesn't usually build character.
But at least I know he... he won't be out on the street, hurting himself or anyone else.
I hope he finds a way to turn it around.
Thanks, Reagan.
Me, too.
You really didn't know what this was about, huh?
Took balls showing up.
Your dad must be proud of you.
(laughs)
That is not gonna work!
The hell are you talking about?
You're trying to make it look like you got all of these people talking about me.
But I recognize half of them as just cops in plainclothes.
Move your ass.
Hey! What's up, Joe?
How's the kids?!
I said move your ass and shut your mouth.
This won't hold up.
I'll be home before you are.
Says you.
We've got at least six witnesses telling us you've switched from drug dealing to identity theft.
And we know you're using underage kids to steal credit cards for you.
I run a group home that helps disadvantaged children in the community.
It's a front for a criminal enterprise.
(muttering): Oh, my goodness...
We boring you?
Yeah.
It's a lot of noise for identity theft.
Hmm.
We know you organized kids from your group home into a g*ng and had them target kids walking out of a video store for robberies.
You also encouraged them to get a body.
So you had them k*ll someone as part of their initiation.
You're used to dealing with feeble brains, aren't you?
Very few as feeble as you.
It's made you lazy, bad at your jobs.
See, you're lunging for answers because you've got a high-profile case.
But you've got nothing.
And I've got nothing more to say to you guys.
Except I want my lawyer.
Now.
That may be the smartest thing he's said all day.
I'm not given to bluster, Ms. Reagan.
But this is what you call a classic case of prosecutorial overreach.
A prisoner d*ed in your custody in your van.
And we now know it's not the first time.
Not even the fifth.
Reality check?
A lot of these folks that we transport don't have healthy lifestyles to begin with.
Drunks, junkies.
Stuff happens.
Can you tell me what a screen test is?
Something they do in Hollywood.
Abetemarco: It's when a driver punishes handcuffed prisoners by driving erratically so they bounce into the screen in the van.
Also known as a rough ride.
Erin: Autopsy report came back.
Your prisoner d*ed from peritonitis.
Internal injuries from being beaten that were aggravated in the wreck.
Tough case for you.
Not that tough.
Your son was in the van when she was beaten.
He took the cuffs off the prisoners and encouraged them to hit her.
We have his text messages telling you exactly what was happening.
See, based on what the prisoners saw in the van, we got a subpoena for your son's cell phone service provider.
And, kid, the words don't look too good on your end.
But I wouldn't take all that weight if I was you.
Dad...
Son, don't you worry.
We're gonna get you the best lawyer money can buy.
Word to the wise, you might want to find your own.
Your interests are no longer the same.
Come on. I told you, I'm not saying a word to you guys until my lawyer gets here.
I didn't ask you any questions.
Did our guest show up yet?
Actually, I was just gonna check.
Yes.
Our guest did show up.
I don't know him.
(chuckles)
I never talked to that man before in my life.
I'm sorry, I thought we weren't talking to you.
You were waiting for your lawyer.
Forget the lawyer.
I'm telling you, I do not know that man.
And I damn sure don't know anything about what happened to his son.
Huh.
But you know who he is, right?
Of course I know who he is.
I've seen Potter on TV.
Oh, you know him a lot more than that.
You were in his youth at risk camp, the one that his group sponsors, when you were a kid.
In fact, he kept you out of prison as a kid.
So?
So, if you know Reverend Potter, you must know he's got a lot of people behind him.
All right, cool, yeah.
The reverend looked out for me.
But that was a long time ago.
What has he done for me lately?
Wow. You know, they say gratitude is the shortest-lived of all emotions.
Baez: Except the rev's still got a lot of friends over at Rikers who haven't forgotten what he tried to do for them.
Danny: In fact, if somebody was to do something to hurt the reverend's kids and then show up in Rikers, I would guess they'd probably have a serious problem on their hands.
You think so?
I know so.
You can't thr*aten me like that.
I'm sorry, we're not talking to you.
You're waiting for your lawyer.
Might be a while.
(sighs)
Get me a damn pen and paper.
I'm ready to start writing.
Your lawyer's not here yet.
I don't care.
I want to put things my way.
You guys got to do me a favor.
What's that?
Tell the rev I did not know it was his kid.
We're not here to do you any favors.
We got him.
Who is it?
The actual sh**t was one Dante Micklewhite.
Age 15.
Did he know my son?
No.
He was part of a g*ng run by Omar Davis.
The m*rder was, uh, his initiation into the crew.
It was...
Senseless.
Yes.
I knew Omar Davis.
Well, it turns out he was in one of your at risk programs back in the day.
If I never have to swallow another piece of irony this lifetime, that'd be just fine.
I hear you.
Well, you do and you don't.
Oh, no. I do.
My son d*ed at the hand of a crooked cop.
I didn't know that.
No reason you would.
Anyway, I don't want to keep you.
I just wanted you to hear it from me as soon as I got it.
Thank you.
And to Detective Reagan.
I'll pass that along.
Commissioner.
Yeah.
Would you and Detective Reagan consider attending the funeral?
You can let us know in the morning.
I can let you know right now.
We'd be honored.
♪ ♪
I'll see you there.
♪ ♪
Sometimes we just have to put our personal feelings aside.
So, what, you're just gonna take a time-out from being enemies?
Not enemies, exactly.
More like agree to disagree.
Actually, just to disagree, since we were never really offered the choice whether to agree or not.
Good point.
But you're being big about it, so good for you.
Erin: Yeah.
Good for you. And there's no real choice.
The Potters lost their son.
There's no sides to a tragedy.
Henry: But it takes two sides to agree to a truce.
And if that's what's happening here, it's something to be grateful for.
Amen. Right?
Amen. Right.
Nicky: So, are you guys just gonna go back to being enemies or whatever on Monday morning?
Probably.
Maybe not so much.
Hopefully.
He's, uh, asked me to speak at the service.
That's a big step.
Or maybe it's just that he knows that we know what they're going through.
What are you gonna say, Dad?
“And even in our sleep, pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair...” (exhales) “...against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.”
St. Matthew?
Shakespeare?
It's Aeschylus.
(sighs)
I was... I was gonna say it at Joe's funeral, but, um...
I couldn't, at the time.
Now you can?
I think so.
I hope so.